


take me for a ride with your eyes

by LunaDarkside



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Mindless Fluff, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDarkside/pseuds/LunaDarkside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A normal day in the office of the sixth, filled with ink spills and two men realizing things about each other they never thought they would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me for a ride with your eyes

_why you gotta **take me for a ride with your eyes**?  
_

_you know you make me ache inside every time._

_i can’t have you, so before I go, before I walk away,_

_I just wanna know –_

_why you gotta be so beautiful?_

_–_ "beautiful" by secrets in stereo

* * *

 

Renji, Byakuya thinks, is the same kind of beautiful as a lake. A calm, still lake.

It is definitely one of his more whimsical thoughts, he reflects as he glances up from the despicable paperwork on his desk just in time to see his lieutenant fumble with a brush, splattering ink across his desk, and give a barely masked snarl of irritation. Byakuya has to hold back a smile.

At first glance, the notion of comparing Abarai Renji to anything that could be described as "peaceful" is ridiculous, dismissible at best. The man is a supernova of energy and life and ink spills, as well, it seems, as Renji navigates clumsily around the office to find a towel for the black droplets on his desk and somehow manages to knock his inkwell onto the floor.

Byakuya suppresses both a sigh and a smirk as Renji swears aloud and glares reproachfully at the inkwell as if the growing mess on the wood is somehow its fault.

Chair grating against the floor, he rises to help, and Renji gives an audible sound of surprise, his eyes flashing with confusion. His mouth opens just a little.

At that, Byakuya raises an eyebrow. "Do you not require assistance, Abarai?" His voice is nothing short of regal, and Renji gapes for a second before he nods quickly.

"Thank you, Captain," he says. His tone is reverent and wondering, and Byakuya has to physically clench his teeth to keep from sighing. He does not deserve this man's admiration, his respect, not when Byakuya has only ever been icily pretentious and politely condescending with him.

As he kneels beside the redheaded lieutenant, pulling an embroidered silk handkerchief from the sleeve of his shihakusho, Byakuya glances furtively over at Renji. He still radiates tireless energy, even as he swipes his own slightly grungy handkerchief over the puddle of ink and swears vigorously under his breath. Yet somehow, even so, Byakuya can feel that he is not upset or angry, is not truly irritated.

He is  _calm_ , in his own way.

In his moment of thought, Byakuya's fingertips wander and accidentally brush against Renji's hand.

_Cool._

Byakuya almost jumps at the contact, but he is so well trained in the art of masking emotions that he does not so much as flinch. He carries on steadily cleaning the ink.

Renji, however, is an entirely different case. He jerks, lips parting in shock. "Er - Captain?" he seems to choke, blinking a few times.

Byakuya sends him an unimpressed slate gray stare, though he can feel his heartbeat humming in his chest, tapping out a rhythm against his ribcage. "Is there a problem, Abarai?" he asks – quietly, though. He cannot bring himself to be firm right now, not when he is breathing the same air as Renji and his fingers still remember the coolness of Renji’s hand.

Brown eyes bite into Byakuya, questions and bewilderment plain in them ( _Byakuya never touches him, accident or otherwise_ ), but Renji just shakes his head. "Nothing, sir." His cheeks are slowly beginning to heat up, judging by the faint pink crawling up his neck, but the lieutenant does not say anything more before returning to wiping at the floor. Byakuya follows his example.

Once the floor appears to have been returned to its former state, Byakuya straightens and moves back towards his desk.

"Thank you, sir," Renji calls to him, and Byakuya glances back to see him standing there almost helplessly, a half smile on his slightly flushed face.

Byakuya nods and thinks to himself that Renji really is like a lake, his emotions crystal clear on the surface in a way that belies a complicated, tangled personality. Yet just one tiny pebble, one little act of kindness, can send ripples through him.

He hopes he is the only person throwing pebbles into the lake.

* * *

Byakuya, Renji thinks, is the same kind of beautiful as the sun. The burning, passionate sun.

He knows nobody would agree with him, and he can kind of understand why. His captain is what they call an ice prince, with his frigid disposition and general lack of emotion, but Renji can see, can point out the differences in emotional capacity between Byakuya and ice statues.

Like now, he thinks, as Byakuya leans a little forward at his desk, a few pieces of hair slipping out of place to brush against the paperwork in front of Byakuya. Renji knows for a fact that the paperwork is a detailed account of the sixth's third seat's less than savory actions on his last trip to the World of the Living, as a copy of the same document is currently in front of him.

The signs might not be all that visible to most people, but to Renji they’re instantly noticeable - there's a certain familiar tightness to Byakuya's hand as he signs the sheet to signify that he's read it, the slightest tilt of vast irritation to his mouth when he sets the paper aside. Renji can read him, all his little burning mannerisms, and he knows at his core, Byakuya is a raging, smoldering star, sweltering underneath the masks he's been taught are natural.

He knows from the time he fought with Byakuya, saw his eyes sharp and focused amidst the blood and injuries, and from the time Byakuya stumbled back into the office after the fight with the Fullbringers. There’s fire there, fire that’s almost been smothered, but can be encouraged back to life when occasion calls for it. It’s there, it’s real, and Renji knows it, although he doubts anyone else truly does.

Renji is forcibly torn out of his reverie when Byakuya actually looks up at him, and he startles so badly that he nearly drops his brush, sending ink flying.

He sputters out a barely-masked growl of embarrassment ( _really, Abarai? The hell are you doing?_ ) and hurriedly stands up, intent on finding a towel of some sort.

As he rounds his desk, Renji makes the mistake of looking at Byakuya.

Byakuya's eyes aren't laughing, really, but there's a definite sparkle there, as if he's considering it.

Renji, gaping because  _beautiful_ , overturns his inkwell.

_Yeah, good going, Abarai. That'll surely impress him._

Without bothering to censor himself, Renji swears loudly. He sends the inkwell an irate look.

The sound of a chair scraping back makes Renji glance over at Byakuya, and his eyebrows shoot up when he realizes why Byakuya is standing up. He makes a soft sound, one that doesn’t go unnoticed.

The captain lifts one artful eyebrow. "Do you not require assistance, Abarai?"

Renji almost swallows his tongue as he gets out, "Thank you, Captain." He knows his voice is betraying him, showcasing his awe, but he can’t find it in himself to be prim and proper when Byakuya was actually being _nice_.

Byakuya makes no response, choosing instead to draw a silk handkerchief out of his shihakusho. It probably costs more than Renji will ever be worth, but he squashes down the thought as he kneels beside Byakuya.

Tugging out his own much grungier handkerchief, Renji begins to scrub at the mess. He can't help but notice how graceful Byakuya's hands are as they glide across the wood. How calm and peaceful and controlled.

He thinks about how tense, how energized, how _alive_  those hands are in battle, curled around Senbonzakura, and smiles a little bit dreamily.

It's at that moment, when Renji is thinking of a Byakuya clad in blood and spiritual pressure, that Byakuya's hand brushes lightly against his. 

_Warm._

He jumps, startled beyond measure, and gapes at his captain, who doesn't seem to have noticed his trailing fingers. "Er - Captain?" Renji stutters inelegantly, and Byakuya levels him a blank stare of melting ice and thawing snow.

"Is there a problem, Abarai?" he inquires softly, almost gently.

Renji gawps before he shakes his head quickly. "Nothing, sir." He can feel flames beginning to rise in his cheeks, and he swears internally before he quickly begins working at the floor once again.

It takes only minutes before the mess is completely gone (too soon, if you ask Renji), and Byakuya stands, back straight and posture perfect.

"Thank you, Captain," Renji stumbles to call after him, and Byakuya glances over his shoulder for just a fleeting moment. There's something in his eyes, something hot and scalding and fiery, almost, and it raises blood to Renji's cheeks.

He realizes he's smiling like an idiot when Byakuya nods, just once, and returns to his desk.

Byakuya really is like the sun, Renji decides, underneath it all. He's willful and insistent and boiling underneath it all, and he's the center of Renji's universe.

He hopes his world is the only one that revolves around Byakuya.

**Author's Note:**

> Mm. I don't really know how I feel about this piece. Ah well.


End file.
